The Isle of Bad Dreams

By Richard Pinkerton

The Rex Cassidy Investigators are called to Rex's estate on the Isle of Jersey, when their house minder, an old school friend is murdered. Is the murder linked to the strange occurrences involving witchcraft near the caves on the coast? And who is the mysterious man from the blue who may have some kind of link to the RCI’s past?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Richard Pinkerton
• Release date: Jun 11, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463332535

Richard Pinkerton

I am in my early 50s and have been writing now since I was 12. I prefer to write light-hearted drama but have written a little fantasy horror and science fiction too.I have an entire series of high school novels (19 of them so far) set in New Zealand (The Mob from TAC series), which I will gradually publish if there is a demand.I prefer to use a mix of quirky and outrageous characters you would never come across in reality and also your every day Joes.My writings are aimed at teenagers mainly, but also young adults.I have also written a series of detective novelettes, most of which can be found on my website. The majority require work, to be able to be published here, mainly due to copyright issues.Please do leave feedback or contact me if you want to know more about my books.

Book preview

The Isle of Bad Dreams

(Book 20 in the Rex Cassidy Investigators series)

Published by Richard Pinkerton at Smashwords

Copyright 2021 Richard Pinkerton

Other books by Richard Pinkerton

Dead End High

Dead End Town

Time Warped

The Mob from TAC series

The Rex Cassidy Investigators

The Curse of the Witchdoctor

The Secret of the Devil’s Triangle

The Gruesome Murders at Manhattan High

The Case of the Cattle Rustlers

The Mystery of the Moving Statue

The Secret of the Phantom Clown

The Case of the Landmark Terrorists

The Great Prison Break

Doppelganger Madness

The Angel and the Hag

Aliens in Atlantis

The Revenge of Dr Dream

The Return of Fingers McGraw

The Angel Cassidy Rescue

Silhouettes of a Moving Statue

The Second Great Prison Break

The Legacy of a Roving Buccaneer

The Return of Fingers McGraw II

The Plot to overthrow the RCI

The Madness of Dr Dream

CHAPTER 1:

Urgent Trip to Jersey

The Rex Cassidy Investigator's Estate - Hollywood

Tucker Pyles sat in the lounge and listened, anger bubbling up inside of him, as one of his colleagues Pete Cook sang a song. It was bad enough that he was singing, but what was worse was his song was a parody of the Bee Gees How deep is your love and the words had been twisted to make fun of him, he; the toughest, sexiest, most intelligent member of the Rex Cassidy Investigators. How dare a little shrimp like Pete, make fun of him, a man whose boots he was unworthy to even lick cow shit off?

'UUuuUUuuBBAAAAAAAAAAAAA...' Pete crooned the first note of the song as others of their companions sat listening in amusement.

He eats his rice in the morning sun, gobbles his doughnuts in the pouring rain.

And as soon as he finishes a feast, he's in the kitchen once again.

And he comes to feed in the summer breeze and in fact anywhere that he darn well please,

If it's food it's gonna go! How big is his gut?

How big is his gut? How big is his gut? I'd really hate to knowwww,

Cuz, he's really just a fat old fool, eating us out... out of house and out of home.

Just look at his gut grow,

He believes he's cool, tougher and smarter than everyone...

But when it comes down to it, he's just a twit, he's not worth mentioning at all.

If he comes running to charge at you, better run, better hide, there's not else to do

Cus he'll squash you flat that's true. How big is his gut?

How big is his gut, how big is his gut? I'd...

Tucker scowled as Pete continued to sing the chorus. He couldn't believe that the others in the room were laughing at his expense. Vanessa, Rex Cassidy's stunning wife had a merry twinkle in her sapphire-blue eyes.

Tucker felt like slapping Pete silly, but couldn't help but listen as Pete came to the end of his song...

and the way he eats, makes your stomach queeze and be sure to duck when he cuts the cheese,

Where does all that tucker go? How big is his gut—?

'Alright, alright!' Tucker snarled. 'Enough. You're hurting my ears, ubbhead! You need to get some singing lessons… and while you're at it learn how to write a decent song. That was crap!'

The others laughed as Pete stood there with a big grin on his face.

'Urrrrrrrbbarrrrrr! You deserve a good ubbering, Cook!'

'That was really good,' Vanessa said. 'And very true too.' The dark-haired goddess laughed some more.

'I've got a whole heap of them,' Pete said. 'I might even compose an album. All songs dedicated to our fat chum, Tucker.'

'None of it was true!' Tucker snarled. 'Sounds more like a song about Irwin. He’s put on a lot of weight lately.’

'Yeah.’ Pete snickered ‘The only difference between you and your brother now is that his IQ is in double figures, while yours remains in single digits.’

'UUrrrrrrbbarrrrr! I'm warning you, Cook. I’ll open up a can of ass gas on you in a second.'

'Sorry, Tucks, but it was you I had in mind when I wrote that parody.'

'It was not, it was Irwin!'

'It was you!'

‘Irwin, ubbhead!'

'What would you know? I'm the one who wrote it, not you.'

'You didn't know what you were singing about. You thought you were singing about me, but really you were singing about my brother. If you could call it singing, it sounded more like a thick cat.'

'You mean a sick cat,' Vanessa said.

'A sick thick cat! A sick, hick thick cat. You should be on the stage show, Cats.'

'Yeah, you're right.' Pete chuckled. 'They had some great singers on that stage show.'

Tucker folded his arms and huffed. 'I reckon I could sing miles better than you!'

'Really?'

'You better believe it, ubbhead. I can sing any kind of song and any kind of music. I can sing opera, rap, heavy metal, rock n roll, country, gospel, even electric guitar.'

Pete snorted. 'What do you mean by electric guitar?'

'Watch!' Tucker stood and moved to the middle of the lounger where Pete was. He shoved him gently out of the way, but he would have loved to have shoved him into furniture. He proceeded to play the air guitar squealing out sounds, doing his best to sound like a heavy metal guitar.

Pete and Vanessa flinched.

At that moment, Max, the RCI's long-serving butler, entered the room. 'Oh my goodness. What is that noise? Is there a sick cat in here or some... Oh, it's you, Master Tucker.'

Pete snickered. 'A sick, thick, hick of a dick of a cat.'

'I see...' Max stared at Tucker in bewilderment. 'Oh, Rex is not here, I see?'

'He took the boys out to the river to do some kayaking,' Vanessa said.

'I have an email message for him from Mr Jones, his house minder on the island of Jersey.'

'Ginge,' Vanessa said. 'How is he?'

'It seems rather urgent. Mr Jones appears to be in some kind of trouble.'

Ginge, Tucker liked. He was one of the nicest of their old high school friends and had never once teased Tucker, unlike most of his other schoolmates. Everyone used to call him Ginge, due to his hair colour. He'd been minding Rex and Vanessa's mansion on Jersey Island for close to ten years now and loved it over there. He would visit the US from time to time on special occasions, but it had been three years since Tucker had seen him last. Tucker hoped that he was okay.

Max handed Vanessa the email and she read it aloud.

Rex,

Very strange goings-on over here. Something major. My life is in danger. There's something very important I must tell you. Someone is here on Jersey Island who knows that I know he's here. Can't say anymore by email or phone as I suspect my communications are being monitored. Must speak to you face to face.

Ginge.

Vanessa peered at her the rest of them with concern in her eyes. 'Oh my God. That doesn't sound good at all.'

'Okay, that was weird,' Pete said. 'Someone he knows knows he knows? What, some criminal or something?'

'I don't know,' Vanessa said. 'But we better talk to Rex right away.'

* * *

Rex Cassidy sat in a chopper flying across the English Channel. They had only three hours earlier arrived in St Malo, France by plane, after a quick flight from LAX. They had breaked for a short while to freshen up, then piled aboard the chopper for Jersey.

He sat with his wife beside him. His sixteen-year-old son, Blake was also with them, as well as one of their most recent recruits, Super Val.

Rex drummed his fingers on his leg. When he’d tried to ring Ginge to tell them they were coming to visit, all he got was his voicemail. Ginge lived alone in the mansion and didn't even have hired help. It seemed he liked the solitude, even though he was a very sociable sort of guy.

Rex had emailed him too but got no reply. It made him worry that perhaps the danger he had faced had gotten to him. They had considered calling the Jersey police to check on him, but they knew that before the police would be involved a person had to be officially missing for a few days first. The only option was to go there and see if Ginge was alright for themselves.

Super Val sat in the back of the chopper wearing his usual blue tights and cape. The letters SV were on the front. 'I think I might hop out here and fly the west of the way to the mansion.’ He believed he had superpowers, but so far he hadn't been able to prove it, even though there was times he’d pulled off remarkable feats. His only problem was he could never do them again, always making the excuse that he couldn't do it with an audience, or they only worked in life-threatening situations.

'I think you'd better wait until we land first,' Vanessa said.

'It would be a gweat opportunity to pwoove my superhuman abilities!'

'It would be a great opportunity to plunge screaming to your death!' Blake said.

'You still wefuse to believe that I can fly don't you?'

'I still refuse to believe you are sane.'

SV shook his head, with despair in his eyes. 'If only you knew the twuth.'

The chopper hovered over the mansion a minute later. It was a fantastic place right on the coastline, a modern Tudor style mansion with beautiful grounds, which Ginge kept looking great all on his own. A short walk amongst some cliffs and there was a rocky paradise of sand, sea and surf which made it one of Rex's favourite getaway retreats.

'Jersey,' Blake said. 'The true wealthy man's paradise. Only the filthy rich can afford to live here... infested with mainly English and French retired millionaires.'

SV spoke again. 'The main thing that bothers me about an island like this isn't the wich people, but the cwiminals. Smugglers and jewel thieves love islands like this one.'

Rex nodded. 'Well let's just hope that Ginge hasn't fallen afoul of any of those types.'

The chopper touched down on the helicopter pad on the roof of the mansion.

Nobody came out to greet them.

Out of the chopper, the blades thudded slowly to a halt.

'No sign of Ginge,' Vanessa said.

'Maybe he's out in his sailing boat?' said SV hopefully.

'Well he loves sailing,' Rex said. 'Goes out to the island of Sark quite a bit.'

'Sark,' SV said. 'That's the island where cars are pwohibited, wight?'

'Yep, but they get around that rule by driving tractors instead. It’s very tranquil though, despite that.'

‘Something enchanting around every corner,’ Vanessa said. ‘Hopefully, we can pay it a visit while we’re here.’

SV rubbed his chin. 'I wonder if it's alwight to fly over the island of Sark.'

'By aircraft?' Blake asked.

'No, just fly.'

'Well seeing as a superpower isn't a mechanical vehicle, then it should be fine.'

They made their way down the outside flight of stairs as the top entrance was locked. They expected to find the main entrance locked too, but it wasn't. They rang the doorbell, but nobody answered.

'Well...' Rex said. 'Seeing as this place belongs to us, I guess we'll